Forever Young (original short story)
by AC Vega
Summary: All of this is wrapped up in a writing style inspired by Haruki Murakami. Natsuko is a mischievous girl with an abnormal secret. When a college student named Takashi dates her to help him forget about a past love, he ends up injured and in the midst of a murder case, though not in the way you'd expect.
1. Part 1

Flash forward a couple of months.

Seeing Emiko crying with a dead baby in her arms gave me a sort of surreal feeling. I imagined that watching a child birth provoked the same intensity of emotion. Emiko, holding the baby tight, was down on her knees looking at the wall as if staring into a void. The room was completely silent except for her sobbing and the ticking of a clock. From where I stood, Emiko looked as if she was all alone in this kind of sadness; all alone in the darkness with one spotlight to highlight her and only her.

Flash back a couple of months.

For as long as I've known Emiko, I've had this fuzzy feeling inside of me whenever I think of her. It's the kind of feeling you get that makes a late autumn morning feel like early summer. As nice as it is, I've been meaning to suppress it and forget about it. Even after 3 years since we've broken up, I still get that sort of feeling for her. One might call it hope mixed with infatuation. On days when there is nothing going on, I would sit and stare at the sky in hopes that one day we'll fall into it together. I'm a sucker for this feeling. Still, I've learned to control it so it doesn't get in the way of our friendship.

I met Emiko during our second year in high school. She sat a few rows away from me, and during mornings, I'd come by and see what she was reading. If it was something I knew I'd give my casual input. The first book I ever tried talking about was Salinger's _Catcher in the Rye_. I couldn't tell if she liked the book because of the quality or the hype. Whatever the case, I told her I didn't like it. After that, she gave me a short analysis on why it was supposedly good. I took it with a grain of salt, just as I do with most things. As the months went by, I grew fonder of her, and by the summer of our second year, I asked her out. Our relationship never went further beyond the hand-holding and occasional sweet talk. But after she broke up with me, she still put in effort to keep me around. Had she felt sorry for me? I never bothered to ask. After the awkwardness subsided, we began having real conversations again. This continued for another few years up to now during college. Despite the fact that we went to different schools, we lived in the same area and still shared the same group of friends. Every now and then, we'd get together at some café or bar and talk about something.

* * *

One day, at a bar in downtown, we met up for a drink after the exams. Emiko ordered a lemonade screw driver. I had myself an ice cold Asahi beer. We both talked about how the tests went and how things went at home. I lived with my brother in an apartment while Emiko still lived with her parents and grandmother.

"You are lucky you don't live with a grandmother with Alzheimers," she told me after taking a swig of lemonade.

"Why?"

"My grandmother is really annoying. She still asks whether or not grandpa will be home, even though he died like a year ago. If she does talk about something else, it'll be something she's repeated like 5 minutes ago, and then she'll go back to talking about grandpa. Sometimes, out of nowhere, she asks me to leave the house because she thinks it's hers. Last night, she nearly kicked me out if it weren't for my parents coming home."

"That's awful. Why doesn't your family send her to a nursing home?"

"If it were up to me, I probably would. But my mom thinks bad stuff happens in nursing homes, like rape and whatnot.

"So, if it were up to you, you'd be ok with letting your grandma get raped?"

"You talk too much, you know that?"

Emiko pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her bag and offered me one. Both her and I enshrouded ourselves in a thick cloud of smoke that made us invisible to the rest of the world.

* * *

One day, I visited Emiko's house to pick her up on the way to the beach to see our friends. I had on a straw hat and white Polo. As I waited for Emiko in the garden, her grandmother came from out of nowhere, like a ghost, and sat down next to me at the table. She wore a black cardigan and a long brown skirt with black sandals. Her hair was in the sort of upward style you'd expect an old woman to have. Her eyes were small, but her raised eyebrows and soft smile indicated she was generally content. From her pocket, she pulled out a cigarette and started smoking. After a puff of smoke, she smiled and bowed her head. I did likewise.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I said.

"You're Emiko's friend?"

"I am."

"Are you from Hokkaido?"

"No. I was born here in Tokyo."

"Is your family from Hokkaido?"

"They're from Nagoya."

"I'm from Hokkaido, you see. My husband is there right now, working on radio towers." I smiled and nodded. "Are you from Hokkaido?" she asked, repeating the same question from a few seconds ago.

"Yes, I'm from Hokkaido," I said, changing my answer from earlier.

"Which part?" she asked, placing her cigarette on an ash tray on the table.

"Sapporo," I said. I knew nothing of the cities from that area, and Sapporo was my choice only because of the beer named after it.

"My husband works there on the radio towers, you see."

"That's lovely," I said, maintaining a happy expression.

"I cannot wait until he comes back." From her pocket, she pulled out another cigarette and lit it up despite the one that was still burning in the ash tray.

For about 5 minutes, Emiko's grandmother continued to ask the same questions over and over again while I kept a façade of fascination. I felt bad for her, but at the same time, I wanted to get out of there. Eventually, she got up to walked around a corner of the house. Emiko's mother came out the door with a semi-worried expression. "Have you seen my mother?" she asked. I told her where she went. Emiko finally came out the door wearing a green tank top, some white shorts, flip flops, sun glasses, and a white hat.

"I feel bad for you," I said to her without any resentment as we got in the car. "Your grandmother really is annoying."

"You met her?"

"Yes. She does talk about the same things over and over again. Does Alzheimers run in your family?"

"I'm not sure. I hope not."

"Imagine having to take care of your grandmother AND your mother when she gets it. Not to mention your father."

"God."

I drove through out of the neighborhood and onto a freeway towards the south of Tokyo. The traffic was light enough to cruise at a speed of 90 km per hour. Only a few patches of bad traffic laid here and there. After talking about her grandmother, the conversation topic switched to TV shows, movies, video games, and the like with little spaces of unawkward silences in between. It took a little over an hour to finally get to the beach. When we got there, our friends were conjuring up a barbeque. I exchanged conversation with a friend of mine, Kyouji. Emiko and a friend of hers, Sakura, went swimming in the ocean. After a bunch of activities, we ended the day by watching the sunset from the top of a hill in a nearby park. Emiko fell asleep in the car as I drove home that night. Street lights would rhythmically pop into the window as I drove, illuminating her nearly snow-white face. Eventually, we got to her house where I nudged her awake.

"We're here."

Emiko slowly sat up straight, opened her eyes half way, and gave a quiet groan. As she shook the sleepiness out of her eyes, I looked out the window towards the house. The front door was open and Emiko's mother was going around the garden with a flashlight. She looked frantic. Eventually, her beam of light fell upon us, and she came over.

"Emiko!" said her mother through the open window. "Your grandmother's missing!"

"Missing? Are you sure she's not in the basement again or something?"

"Your father and I have looked everywhere, and she's not here. Hi, Takashi," Emiko's mother said to me. "Did you happen to see my mother walking through the streets when you drove here? I'm sure you know what she looks like."

"I'm sorry. I don't think I saw her."

"Emiko, I'll be inside. I'm calling the police," she said, before going into the house. Emiko then turned to me. I widened my eyes to empathize with her situation.

"Shit," I said. "Do you, uh, want to go look for her or something?"

"Nah. Not now. I'm pretty tired. I'm sure the police will take care of it anyway." With that, she got her stuff from the back of my car and sent me off home.

Months went by. Emiko's grandmother hadn't been seen since that night. The police had looked diligently for her for about a month, but then resorted to just placing fliers up on telephone poles. Another month went by after that, but there was no word of Emiko's grandmother. Emiko herself didn't seem too shaken up over it. In fact, she smiled a little more than usual. Her soft smile was nice to see, but I couldn't help feeling that it was due to her grandmother's absent from her life. Still, I never questioned her about it. It was none of my business.

* * *

It was the start of my sophomore year in college. My brother had gotten a better job, so we could afford to move to a nicer place that was closer to the school. As far as school work went, the work load was twice that of last year's. This year, I was taking a business class, a writing class, and to make things more bearable, and an art class.

During art class, the students would sit in a circle with easels and drawing boards. In the middle of the circle was a table where the teacher would place an object which we'd draw. Drawing at the end of every day for 3 hours helped me to relax and forget everything that was going on in my life. The curves of a vase replaced the demand curves I saw in my textbook. Different ways to shade a shadow replaced thoughts of business laws. Nothing else mattered besides drawing; that, and a pretty girl who also attended the class.

As I spent more time doing art, I felt as if I developed a keener visual appreciation for things. Being able to see beauty in an ordinary potted plant meant that I was tuned to awe at the pretty face of a particular female student. Every now and then, as we worked on our drawings, I'd steal glances of her here and there. She wasn't exactly the prettiest girl in the class. In fact, there were other prettier students who became models in later years. These girls, however, had a kind of beauty that the media, culture, and magazine used to death. They were all taller than average, had long legs, and doll faces. This particular girl had a different sort of beauty that was rare. Her above-average looks matched with her good taste in fashion suggested she was comfortable with herself. She was a damn-good artist as well. While the rest of the class and I always took our time, she seemed to finish her drawings in half the time with double the quality. Early in the quarter, I was lucky enough to sit next to her.

That day in class started with an introduction to shading. Harder charcoals were meant for the darkest possible black. Softer charcoals could be used to create the lightest possible shade to something just above the darkness of hard charcoal. To practice, the teacher placed a white ceramic cone in the middle for us to draw. I only had to use the soft charcoal for this piece. The left side of the cone was illuminated by a lamp on the ceiling. In contrast, the right side was in shadow. The area in between light and dark needed even shading. Otherwise, the cone would not look smooth. It took about 5 to 10 minutes to get it just right. Every time I tried it, I got better and better. Curious as to how the girl I sat next to was doing, I leaned over to take a glance, making sure not to be noticed. She wasn't working on the cone, but something else.

"Holy moly," I said unconsciously. She briefly looked at me, and said thanks. Her slightly condescending tone implied that she was a little tired of being complimented. I tried not to take it as arrogance. Maybe she was one of those girls who had already gone through a lifetime of noteworthy achievements. During the break, she didn't bother to get up and talk to anyone. Instead, she stayed in her little corner preoccupied by drawing. I went over to talk to her.

"Did you just start drawing that at the beginning of class?" I asked.

"Yup."

"How? That'd take me at least a week to do."

"Well, I guess I'm not ordinary, now am I?"

"But seriously. How did you draw all of that in just a little over an hour?"

"Practice. Repetition. I've been drawing this same picture for my whole life, trying to get it right."

"Why the same picture?"

"It's not just the same picture. There's a little something different in each one. To an ordinary person, yes, it's the same picture, but to me, there's something else that no one else sees, like a memory associated with it, or a new technique that's been mastered. That sort of thing. And unlike life, I get to keep trying and over again with this picture until it's perfect."

"But you've been drawing this same picture all your life. Isn't that a little crazy? Also, why are you in a lower level college art class like this? You've got so much potential."

"Potential? For what?"

"I don't know. Maybe a higher level class? Or a career? You could become famous. I'm sure of it."

"Being famous is overrated."

"Hmm. Andy Warhol said that, in a perfect world, everyone would get to be famous for 15 minutes."

"Well, that man was a nut job. That's one of those quotes that sound nice, but if you think about it, it doesn't mean anything profound."

"Hmm. Is it strange to say that you scare me?"

She didn't ask me why I was scared. She just smiled.

As a result, I got slightly nervous. "Well, I'm not really scared, or anything. I don't know why I said that." She just kept on smiling.

"You're not just scared. You're intimidated."

"I'm not intimidated."

"Your name?" she asked, quickly changing the topic.

"Um, Takashi," I replied. For a brief moment, we fell silent. She continued drawing with a half-smile on her face.

"Forgetting something?" she asked.

"I'm not sure."

"Don't you want to know what my name is?"

"Of course."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask?"

"Why don't you just tell me?

"Why don't you ask?"

"What's your name?"

Before she could tell me, the teacher came back into the room to tell us that break time was over. "To be continued," said the girl whose name I still didn't know. By that, I thought she meant that she'd tell me after class, but before I could get a chance, she was gone.

* * *

On Thursday afternoon, I plotted myself at a table inside the library to study for the next few hours. Next to the table was a nice view of some trees with a few buildings in the background. Every now and then, I'd look up from whatever I was working on to stare out the window, wishing to be on the other side. I imagined calling up a few friends and going out as if it were Friday, but then I reminded myself that I wasn't in high school anymore. My job, at that moment, was to grow up into a responsible adult. Still, I was convinced otherwise.

At one point, turning away from the window back to my work, I found the girl from art class sitting in front of me. She wore a brown cardigan draped over a white button up. Over her shoulder was a white bag, and in her left arm she carried a beige jacket. Her expression was a steady smile with direct eye contact.

"Well?" she said.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask me?"

I remembered our conversation from last night. "I already did. Yesterday."

"True," she said, then paused to look straight at me for a moment.

"Well?" I was getting impatient.

"_Natsuko_."

"Natsuko?"

"Yes."

"That introduction took way longer than it should have in my opinion."

"It's a lot more fun this way. I like suspense, like the kind they put in the movies."

"Oh. What's your favorite movie?" I asked, not knowing anything else that'd be interesting to say.

"I don't like movies. I read books."

"But you just said you liked movies."

"No. I said I like the suspense they add in movies. I only used movies as an example since you don't look like you read books very much."

"So why didn't you just say stories instead of movies?"

"I don't know. Pardon me, but I have this habit of thinking everyone's stupid."

"A lot of people are stupid, yes."

"Although, I always question whether or not I'm the stupid one for being so judgmental."

"How old are you?" I asked.

"How old do I look?"

"20?"

She smiled, so I assumed that meant yes.

"Why do you smile a lot?" I asked.

"Why not? I'm just happy to be alive."

"A bit odd for a 20 year old to say. Most of us want to be dead."

"But most of you are dead."

"That's how I feel anyway."

"Look. This is no way to live," she said, referring to my stack of textbooks lying next to me. "Why don't you get out and have fun? You're young and it's a beautiful day outside."

"Well, I do have a future to think about, you know."

"The future can wait. You have the rest of your life to worry about work, so why not enjoy the time you have being young?"

Unable to answer her question, I stopped all motion with the exception of tightening my lips and looking down at my books.

"I mean, if you don't have fun now, you're as good as dead. Anyways, I will be catching a train to Shibuya. Come with me if you want." Natsuko got up from the table and started walking towards the exit. I stayed there at the table.

The world and my mind fell silent as soon as she left. 10 minutes into my work, I began to think more about what she said. Am I as good as dead, as she suggests? I imagined being a tired old man in an office at the age of 30. By then, my only choice will be to keep working. I can't have too much fun at that age. Right now, as a strong and healthy young man, I have a wider array of choices. I could stay in and work hard for my future or I could go out and seize the day. Weighing my options, I even compared the dreary atmosphere of the library to the outside. The more I thought, the brighter the sky had become. Inside of the library was gray and dull while the outside was bright and optimistic like Natsuko's face which I found looking at me from the bus stop. In a moment's notice, I stopped thinking, packed everything into my bag, and went out of the library into the daylight.

* * *

After being driven from clubs to bars across the district, I had woken up in a shabby love hotel somewhere in Shibuya. Natsuko, lying naked next to me under the sheets, was fast asleep. The skin on her back was flawless like that of a baby's. It's as if she'd gone an entire lifetime of being isolated from the rough edges of the outside world. Her hair rested upon the pillow and her shoulders. Light coming in from the window would make a shine streak that started from her right ear. Asleep, Natsuko appeared as if she were a bit younger than when awake. This seemingly lifeless body was nothing less than a sex goddess a few hours ago. For hours, her breath would create storms while I moved mountains. I didn't think a moment like that could ever be recreated. Now it's over, but I'm not the least bit sad. It's as if I had gone through an entire lifetime's worth of experiences on this very bed. Now what?

"Breakfast," Natsuko whispered into my ear, holding me from behind.

"It's still 4 in the morning."

Natsuko started nibbling on my ear. I reached out to grab Natsuko's pack of cigarettes on the table and asked for one. Without a word, she reached into the open box as I held it and removed two cigarettes, placing one in my lips then hers. Both were lit using a single flame.

"It's 4 in the morning," she said.

"That's what I said."

"But it's breakfast time somewhere else."

"And where would that be?"

"I don't know. Let's go there. Right now. This very moment."

"Even if you know nothing about that place?"

"We can learn." Natsuko exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and leaned back onto the bed. Her body was completely blocked by the smoke from my view. I exhaled another cloud of smoke into the same area, creating an even thicker fog.

"Get your head of the clouds. Literally." Waving the smoke out of the way, I found that Natsuko had disappeared from the spot she sank into. I turned back towards the way I was facing and found her standing above me, fully dressed with the cigarette in her mouth. Natsuko tossed my clothes onto my lap. Before I could get a chance to grab my shirt, she took it and put it on me. No longer than half a minute, and she had me all dressed up.

"You trying to be my mother now?" I asked.

"Nah. It's a habit, I guess."

"Habit?"

"Uhh, I babysit."

The entire hotel was silent as we left. At the counter, I dropped off the key for our room. Afterwards, we headed to a street full of restaurants to find a place that was open. It was still dark outside and the air was cold. Unlike midnight, the streets at 4 in the morning were without the bustling life that characterized the city. Nearly everything was closed apart from a convenient store and a couple of small restaurants that catered to the early-rising salarymen. We went to one of these places and had ramen. Unsurprisingly, Natsuko ordered some alcohol. Instead of hard liquor or beer, she had herself a warm cup of sake.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to get this drunk early in the morning?" I asked.

"It's happy hour somewhere in the world."

"Where do you draw the line?" All she did was smile as opposed to answering or criticizing my question.

"Do you like me?" she asked. In return, I gave her a smile without an answer. She gave me a mild punch on the arm. "Well?"

"It's a hard question to answer. If I said I liked you, I'd be opening myself up for hurt. If I said no, you'd be hurt. Either way, no one wins."

"I like you," she said.

"You're drunk."

"Forget I said anything. Want to go watch the sun rise?"

* * *

That weekend, while I was at home reading stuff on the internet, I decided to head on over to Emiko's house since neither of us had anything better to do. I brought over a couple of beers and we sat on the roof of her house and talked. She talked about school, finding a job at a restaurant, and her still missing grandmother. I then told her about Natsuko.

"Got yourself a girlfriend now?" she asked.

"We did some fun stuff. We had sex. Does that count as having a girlfriend?"

"Dunno. Depends on you, I guess. How long have you guys been together?"

"Well, actually, I just met her on Friday."

"Friday?" asked Emiko with a shocked look. "So you've been together for 2 days?" Today was Sunday.

"Actually, it's only been 1 day, considering we've only seen each other for less than 24 hours. After school that on Friday, we headed into the city then, yada yada yada, we parted ways at 6 in the morning on Saturday."

"It could turn out to be a fling."

"Fling?"

"A very short relationship," she said.

"I hope it isn't just a fling."

"Better hope not. But a girl that'll sleep with you after barely knowing you is kind of sketchy."

"You think?"

"I think so. Most girls like that are never serious about relationships."

"You think I'll get my heart broken?"

"I dunno. Are you in love?"

"I dunno."

"One of the characters on this TV show I watch said that guys who easily fall in love are just as bad as girls who easily fall into having sex."

"I can understand why it's bad for the girl to be that way, but I don't understand the guy part."

"The way I see it, guys want sex and girls want love. If either is so easy to give the other what they want, then both of them will stop trying because they are satisfied. Things will get boring and one or both of them will go look for a new challenge."

"What happens when only one of them gives up what the other wants?"

"Bad stuff could happen. One takes advantage of the other."

Both of us sat in silence for a minute as I thought about my situation. The only girl I've probably ever really loved was the one sitting next to me, but I didn't want to tell her.

"Thanks for the beer, by the way," she said.

"No problem."

"By the way. What's the name of the girl you're dating? I might know her."

"Her name is Natsuko."

"Natsuko?" she said, with a subtle chuckle.

"Yeah. Why? What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. That's just my grandmother's name. You're not the reason why she's been missing all this time, right?" she asked jokingly.

"I don't think so. The Natsuko I'm dating loves drinking, partying, shopping, and all the stuff that other girls our age love. I don't assume your grandmother loves the same things."

"Nah. Not anymore, at least." Emiko downed the last of her beer then said "Follow me. I want to show you something."

Emiko lead me down some stairs and through the house while telling me that her family was getting rid of some things they didn't need anymore. "I know how you like old stuff," she said. "So I thought you might be interested in having some of it." In one corner of the house is a door that leads into a basement. In this basement, I found a typical array of junk; old furniture the family never uses anymore; a wide array of unused electronics from the late 20th century; some old art; etcetera. All of this was to be thrown out by the end of week. Emiko told me I could have whatever I wanted. As I scavenged, I found myself an old copy of a Murakami novel, a camera kit from the 90's complete with 3 interchangeable lenses, and a blazer that belonged to Emiko's grandfather. Then I found something peculiar that left me in a state of confusion.

"Who painted this?" I asked Emiko.

"My grandmother. Want it? I doubt we could sell it."

"Yeah, sure." Without saying much else, I carried the stuff out to my car and headed home.

The nearly 30 year old painting that rested in Emiko's basement left me anxiously wanting to ask Natsuko about it. That night, before going to bed, I examined the painting. It looked identical to the drawing that Natsuko did last week with the only difference being the materials used. On top of that, the name written on the back was Natsuko's. This coincidence left me to think I was stuck in a strange dream or something. Perhaps the painting and Natsuko had something to do with Emiko's missing grandmother. Or maybe Natsuko herself was, in fact, Emiko's missing grandmother, but how? When I left Emiko's house on Sunday night, I didn't express any of these thoughts for fear of sounding crazy. With thoughts as strange as these, the only way I could get peace of mind to sleep was to accept a realistic conclusion of some sort. I concluded that both young Natsuko and Emiko's grandmother were copying a piece of work from some other artist. But it turns out that wasn't the case. I showed the piece of art to various art professors at school and none of them recognized it. With that, the only thing left to do was talk to Natsuko. Unfortunately, she was gone.


	2. Part 2

On Monday, I awaited her arrival by the front door of the class. I gave up waiting by the end of the first hour. The next day, I did the same thing, and after 3 days of doing this, I stopped. I didn't even bother to ask the art instructor what happened to her. How would she know? It was then that I decided the girl I'd met was nothing but a hallucination, but all clues indicated that she wasn't. The class roster included a girl by her name. One of my classmates even commended me for going up and talking to her that one day. She was all too real.

By the end of the week, the lack of any mention of Natsuko helped me to forget her. Her name was removed from the roster due to absence. Even Emiko barely mentioned her missing grandmother anymore. I did, however, overhear the mother talking about the possibility of a funeral, but that was it. By the start of the next week, it was as if Natsuko never existed at all. The only thing that did, however, was the memory, which I could not logically connect to anything in my life. But before I knew it, the connections finally came. Everything fell into place. One rainy night, as I was studying for a midterm exam, I got a phone call from a number not listed on my phone.

"Takashi?" said the voice of a seemingly young girl.

"Natsuko?"

"Correct." Her voice seemed higher and smaller, but that was probably because of the phone.

"Where've you been? I don't see you in class anymore," I said.

"I'll tell you later. Can you pick me up from the airport?"

"Airport? It's awfully late, you know."

"I'll buy you some food and pay for your gas. Does that sound alright? On top of that, I've got quite a lot I need to tell you."

"Like what?"

"Just come to the airport. I'll be standing at the ANA section wearing a red jacket and rain boots." Natsuko hung up before I could ask anything else.

After the phone call, I got dressed, put on a hoodie, and went down stairs to get my brother's car. He went out for the night with a friend, so he didn't need it. When I got to the garage, I saw heavy rain. Deep puddles formed by the entrance. As I turned on the car, I adjusted the radio to my favorite station. A song by Spitz was playing. I then headed out of the garage as if I were driving a submarine underwater. The rain was too heavy for the windshield wipers to give me a properly clear view of the road. Driving slowly on the freeway towards the airport, it took about an hour before getting there.

By the time I got there, it was around midnight. Only a few cars and people were around. I parked at the ANA section and stood outside to look for Natsuko. A few pretty girls passed by, but none of them were her. In fact, I didn't meet anyone that resembled the woman from my memories. I found something else.

From the other side of the airport entrance, I saw a young girl who looked like she belonged in middle school. In her left hand she carried her luggage. Her hair was down resting on her shoulders. She was about one head shorter than me and wore a red jacket and rain boots just as Natsuko had specified. This seemingly normal girl made her way towards me without breaking eye contact. She clearly knew who I was, but I was unsure if I knew who she was.

"Natsuko?" I asked. She said no word, smiled, then gave me a long hug. I hesitantly returned a hug in my state of bewilderment. Stepping back, she continued to look into my eyes while keeping a stoic expression.

"How did…" I began, but immediately stopped. "Why are…" I began again. Expecting her to say something, I remained silent. So did Natsuko. She kept the same position for what seemed like an eternity as I looked back at her. As we stood there, I was unsure about the Natsuko from my memories. From what I remembered, I met a woman. But the Natsuko from that moment was young girl. Finally, she broke the silence.

"Your reaction right now," she began.

"Huh?"

"It's beautiful."

I remained silent.

"I don't mean it in any cruel way. It's just that, if you think about it, you're the only one in the world in this sort of situation. That means you are the only one experiencing this specific sort of emotion, and I'm the only one witnessing it. Among the billions of people on the planet right now, you and I are completely alone in this. We're completely and metaphorically alone. Isn't that beautiful?"

Still, after she said this, I was silent, wondering what to do next.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Um, a little."

"Let's get out of here and find a nice warm restaurant."

I packed her bags into my car while she got into the passenger seat. After I got back into the car, I took another look at Natsuko for about a minute. My mind was filled with too many other thoughts for me to remember to ask about the painting. She looked back at me just the same, except her expression said something different. It was telling me that everything I've been assuming in the past 5 minutes was in fact correct.

"Where do I begin?" she said as I started driving. "Have you chosen a place to eat, by the way?"

"Yes."

"Where might that be?"

"I don't know. Maybe somewhere off the freeway or something. Where am I heading, exactly? Do you have a place to stay?"

She shook her head.

"Do you need a place to stay?"

She nodded.

I sighed. "Anyways, can you tell me what's going on? You're obviously the age of a middleschooler. Is that right, or am I going crazy? You didn't look this young when I met you weeks ago."

"Your eyes are correct. I am younger than when I was a few weeks ago."

"Just tell me the whole story. I don't want to have to ask too many questions. What's going on?"

Natsuko sat up straight in the chair and made herself comfortable. She cleared her throat then began to speak. "First, I have to tell you something. I thought you'd think this'd sound crazy, but the fact that you know I'm aging backwards is already crazy enough. Anyways, I've known you longer than those few hours we spent together on Friday. I know about your feelings towards Emiko even though we've never talked about it. An old woman like me can tell. I'm Emiko's grandmother."

My eyes widened as the rest of my face remained still with this news. After a moment of silence, I said "I guess that explains the painting in Emiko's basement that's identical to your drawing."

"You found it? I hadn't realized it was still there. I painted that a long time ago, probably before you were born."

"Can you explain how you're aging backwards?"

"Not really. I don't remember what happened when I turned into a younger woman. All I can remember is when I finally realized the change. Before that, I woke up underneath the shade of a tree. It was sunny outside, and the weather was absolutely calm. A few yards away there was a river. In the background of everything there stood the mountains. Getting up from the grass, I felt oddly energetic. It took nearly no effort to do so, which is something I haven't enjoyed in quite a long time. Walking out of the shade, I used my hand to shield the sun from my eyes. It was then that I noticed how clear and smooth the skin on my hand looked. The skin on the rest of my body was in the same condition. At the river, I looked at my reflection and discovered that I turned younger. _Was this a dream?_ I wondered. This was all too overwhelming, so I couldn't decide what emotions to feel. Worried that it might be a dream, I decided not to feel too happy so as not to get disappointed if I woke up. After a while, I realized that it wasn't a dream. But if this were real, is there a catch? 3 weeks later, I noticed my body became even healthier and more vibrant. I thought the improvements would just keep coming, but that wasn't the case. I was actually aging backwards. Before, when I woke up on the mountain, I think I was about age 30. By age 23, I realized I was getting younger by 1 year every week."

"What do you think will happen after you can't get any younger?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I'll just die as a baby. Worried this might happen, I decided to get all the money I had in my bank account then do everything I've always wanted to do."

"And signing up for a college art class was one of the things on your list?"

"Actually, I was more interested in meeting you."

"Really? Why?"

"I wanted to see what it'd be like to meet you at your age. We met a few times before. I believe I repeated a bunch of mundane questions over and over again."

"Can you tell me what happened to you after the weekend we were together? Were you out fulfilling your bucket list?"

"I was. One of the things on my list was to visit some old friends. I wasn't sure if they were still alive anymore, but it wouldn't have hurt to go to Hokkaido anyway. On Monday morning I hopped a plane and went there, but when I arrived, I found out that only 2 friends were still around. 2 of the others died a few years ago while the rest moved to other places. First, I visited Kumiko. She wasn't too happy to see me. In fact, she thought I was another caretaker sent by her family. I tried telling her I was Natsuko, but then she curled up on the floor and tried convincing herself that she wasn't going crazy. I sat in the corner and waited until she got her act together, but she felt asleep. Later, I went to see Hikaru on the other side of town. Her and her horde of cats welcomed me in for some cake and tea even before I introduced myself. We talked and talked, and after a while, she said she felt as if we were old friends. With both of us in a happy mood, I finally told her I was Natsuko. She didn't believe me at first, but then I reminded her of all the things we used to do when we were younger. Instead of getting scared and casting me away, she held me and cried for a moment. When she stopped, I told her about our old friend, Kumiko. Hikaru hadn't seen her in a while, so we planned on heading over during the evening. I thought that perhaps Hikaru would be able to calm her down, but that was not the case. When we got there, we saw Kumiko talking with some police officers. She saw me and accused me of trying to murder her. Before they could get a good look at my face, I ran through some winding alleys and ended up in the middle of the city. The next morning, I went to Hikaru's house and asked if I could hide there for a while. She thought she'd get in trouble with the police, but I convinced her otherwise. The only record of me had photo of an old woman who was probably filed as deceased. Kumiko would probably be dubbed as crazy if they tried to pin that profile on me, a young girl. Besides, I had a fake ID and papers. Hikaru decided to let me stay. The following weeks were peaceful for the most part. Hikaru and I went out on the town and enjoyed ourselves. We did this for about 3 weeks, but then the police started nosing around our business again. A private investigator had been observing us together and Hikaru was taken in for questioning. I thought that she'd come back and tell me everything was fine, but she told me to run from there. Kumiko was found stabbed in an alleyway outside her house, and I became one of the suspects. As soon as I heard the news, I packed all of my stuff and headed to the airport. I thought the police would be looking for me there, but apparently not. Now, I'm here."

"You're wanted for murder?"

"I didn't kill her. I just happened to be a suspect."

"If you're innocent, then why are you afraid of getting caught?"

"Because if I'm caught, I'll waste my time being held up in court. I only have a few weeks left to live."

"So why did you come back to Tokyo?" I asked.

Her talking was replaced by the sound of the heavy rain. Wondering why she stopped talking, I turned to her thinking she had fallen asleep. She hadn't. Natsuko was looking at me then grabbed for my hand. Waiting for her to say something, I remained silent. We shared this silence with the sound of the rain for a few minutes as I drove on the freeway. Then she rested her hand on my lap and started moving it sensually. Immediately, I reminded myself that she a young girl.

"Wait a minute. Stop. You're 14."

"No I'm not. I'm an old lady in a young girl's body."

"This is still weird, though."

"Does it have to be?"

"Why are you messing with my head?"

"Am I?"

"I don't know. Can we not do this?"

"I thought you liked me."

"I never said I did."

"What? But we had so much fun together… wait a minute… are you still in love with Emiko?"

"What? I got over her a long time ago."

"Bull shit. I've lived long enough to read people's true feelings. The only reason you say you've gotten over her is because you want to stay friends. You'd rather have that than lose her completely. You love her enough to avoid falling in love. Why? Because you think you're not good for her. Look what's done to you."

A deep sinkhole began to form in my gut. "I tried getting over her, but I keep falling back. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Fall in love with someone else." Natsuko pulled me in for a long kiss. She wouldn't let go. In just a matter of seconds, I'd completely lost control of the car, and we were in a smashed up tin can rolling through the air at high speed.

* * *

When I woke up, I felt a sort of numbness mixed with muscle pain all over my body. I was lying on a hospital bed underneath white fluorescent lights. Outside my window was a view of the Tokyo skyline in the afternoon. How long had I been asleep? Days? Months? Years? I was unsure. With my hand, I felt the stubble on my face to figure out how much time had passed. The stubble was still at its shortest, so it couldn't have been more than a week. Meanwhile, a nurse had come by to see how I was doing.

"Feeling alright?"

"What happened?" I asked.

"You were in a car crash a few days ago. Sound familiar?"

"Car crash? Oh god, my brother is going to kill me."

"You were driving your brother's car?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Apparently, you were with a younger girl when you crashed. She's in a comma right now. Are you her brother?"

"Babysitter. I can call her family down here."

"I'll get you a phone. I bet they're worried sick."

When she came back, she handed me the phone. I told the nurse I needed some privacy, so she left the room and closed to the door. I dialed Emiko, and waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?" she said.

"It's Takashi. I'm at the hospital."

"Oh my god. Are you ok?"

"I think I am. I got into a car accident."

"Do you need me to come over or something?"

"Actually, I called you because I found your grandmother. She's with me at the hospital."

"Oh my god. How did you find her?"

"I'll explain everything later. Just come to the hospital but don't ask for your grandmother. Ask for Natsuko. They won't know what you're talking about if you refer to her as your grandmother. Also, prepare to be shocked and confused when you finally meet her."

"Oh my god. Why?"

"I'll explain everything later. Also, make sure to tell them that Natsuko is your little sister."

"…Wait… What? Sister?"

"Yeah."

"Is this a joke?"

Before Emiko could bombard me with too many questions, I hung up. I hoped that my vagueness would get her to come to the hospital.

"Nurse!"

"Yes?" she said, peaking through the door.

"Make sure the front desk knows the little girl's name is Natsuko. Her sister is coming."

The nurse nodded and made her way downstairs. Afterwards, I drank some water and ate the food she left for me on the nightstand. Everything was quiet except for a low hum in the vents overhead. Feeling too lazy to reach for the TV remote, I decided to take another nap. An hour later, I woke up when Emiko entered the room.

"Can I have a little privacy?" she said, probably to a nurse.

"Of course," the other person responded.

"Takashi?"

"Hey."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm alright."

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure that girl in the other room isn't my grandmother."

"It's a wild story, and if I told you, you'd think I was crazy."

"I'll be the judge of that. Tell me."

"Well, when your grandmother went missing, she told me she woke up on a mountain and she turned young again."

"And how in the hell could that possibly happen?"

"I don't know. She said she didn't remember. Natsuko woke up next to a river, so maybe she found a magical fountain of youth or something."

"Really? A fountain of youth?" Emiko's tone was slightly annoyed.

"Yes. And after turning young, she went around doing all the things she missed doing."

"How did you find her?"

"I met her at school. I think I told you about her before."

"Wait. That girl in the next room was her? You had sex with a minor?"

"What? No! She was much older than that. Apparently, your grandmother's youth comes with a catch. She ages backwards."

Emiko fell silent. A sorrowful expression began to drape over her face as she sat in the chair next to me. Looking into my eyes, she moved her hand through my hair. Tears began to swell up. In no time at all, she started sobbing and put her head on top of my chest.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"No. Takashi. Come back!"

Not knowing what to say, all I could do was put my hand on her back.

"I'm sorry for the way I've treated you all these years. But now you're gone."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why did you have to lose your mind in that car crash?"

"Hey. I haven't gone crazy or anything. I barely hit my head. It's Natsuko you should be worrying about."

It was as if Emiko could barely hear me. The words that came out of my mouth at that moment were only the ramblings of a madman. Eventually, the sobbing stopped. She got up and took one long look into my eyes.

"That's funny. You don't appear to be crazy."

"I'm not."

"Do you still have your memory intact?"

"Yes."

"Where did we go to high school?"

"Bloody hell. We went to North High. I didn't lose my memory. And no one can really turn crazy after a car crash."

"Then what's will all the talk of my grandmother?"

"Look. I can't seem to convince you. Right now, she's in a comma. If you come back in 3 weeks, you'll see that she's aged backwards just like I said. Or, if she's woken up before then, I'll bring her to your house."

"Ok. I hope you get well soon. Do you need anything? A book? The remote?"

"I guess I'll have the remote." She handed it to me and gave me a big hug before leaving the room. I turned on the TV and scrolled through several channels. Nothing caught my interest besides the news. Radiation from Fukushima was spreading into the ocean at a dangerous rate. The Americans were gearing up for intervention in Syria. Then some familiar news from Hokkaido came on.

"The murder of a woman from Sapporo is still being investigated. Police officials say the most significant clue came from the victim herself when she allegedly told the police that a teenage girl was attempting to murder her. The teenage girl hasn't been identified, but she was seen together with an older woman. The woman, taken in for questioning, told us her name was Natsuko Yoshida. When archivists looked up her name, they found, not a teenage girl, but a woman in her late seventies. More on this story can be viewed at our website."

After hearing this, I immediately called for a nurse to give me a phone. She brought me an entire module in case I needed to make more calls. I dialed Emiko's mobile.

"Emiko!"

"Yes?"

"I know you couldn't believe what I had said earlier, but you need to see this. Go to this website and—

"Hold on. I have got another call."

"Okay."

She put me on hold where I waited for 5 minutes. The news on the TV changed to coverage in Fukushima. A board of directors was being questioned by the press on why they didn't tell the public sooner about the situation. Afterwards, a commercial on anti-aging crème came on and Emiko went back on the line.

"Emiko?"

"I'm coming back to the hospital. My dad called me and told me what he saw on the news. It turns out you're not crazy after all."

"I told you!"

"But what do we do now? I'd tell my parents, but would they believe me?"

"Probably not. Maybe we should wait until the news picks up?"

A man in brown khakis and blue blazer was waving at me from the door. He didn't appear to work at the hospital. "Hi. I'm inspector Yamato. I need to have a word with you. I'll wait until you're done with your call," he said. I nodded, and went back to talking to Emiko.

"Actually, you should come right now to my room. An inspector is here. I need you to back me up."

* * *

Inspector Yamato was a tall lanky man in his late 30's. He fashioned a crew cut with no facial hair. A few tattoos that peaked from underneath his collar suggested he used to run with the Yakuzas when he was younger. After sitting down next to my bed, he pulled out a recorder, turned it on, and placed it on the night stand.

"This is inspector Yamato. Badge number 7587. Please state your name, age, and occupation."

"Takashi Nakahara. 20 years old. Unemployed college student."

"Mr. Nakahara, do you know why I'm talking to you?"

"Not exactly. Why?"

"An old lady named Kumiko was murdered in Sapporo. Before she was killed, she pointed at a young girl and identified her as Natsuko . I looked into some archives and discovered that this Natsuko wasn't a teenage girl, but an old woman who had gone missing. Earlier this week, there were two people checked into the hospital: you, and an unidentified girl who you claimed to be named Natsuko. Did you, in fact, tell he nurse that her name was Natsuko?"

"I did."

"Where were you on the night of Kumiko's murder?"

"I was at home, studying. I had never gone to Sapporo in my life."

"Can you explain how you know the girl named Natsuko?"

"She's my friend's sister."

"And who might that friend be?"

"Emiko Watanabe."

"What were you doing with her when you crashed a few nights ago?"

"She called me up from the airport to pick her up."

"And where had she come from?"

"Sapporo."

"Earlier, you said that this Natsuko is Emiko's sister. In the archives, I found that Emiko has no sister. The only Natsuko in her family is the grandmother who went missing months ago. I'm having a hard time connecting these facts. I think you're lying to me about something."

"The only thing he lied to you about is Natsuko being my sister," said Emiko.

Inspector Yamato turned around to see her standing at the door. "Are you Emiko Watanabe?"

"I am."

"Can you state your name, age, and occupation into the recorder?"

"Emiko Watanabe. 19. College student."

"Okay. Now what do you mean Takashi lied?"

"Natsuko isn't my sister. She's my grandmother."

"I know."

"The young girl in a comma next door is my grandmother."

"Excuse me?" said Yamato looking more confused than ever.

"Takashi. Tell him the story."

"Well, inspector Yamato. You're probably not going to believe this, but Natsuko is aging backwards."

"…what?"

"That's right. She's aging backwards. If you don't believe me, wait a few weeks and you'll see Natsuko getting younger and younger."

Yamato turned to Emiko. "Can you vouch for Takashi's story?"

"I can. I have no proof, but everything connects quite well. After taking a look at the girl, I noticed how much she looked like my mom."

"This has got to be a joke."

"No joke."

"Can you explain how this girl is getting younger, Takashi?"

"She said she didn't remember how it happened, but after it did, she woke up on a mountain."

"Okay. Um, we'll keep in touch. Here's my card if you want to provide any more information."

"I'll call when I can."

"I need to leave now before the press starts blocking the entrance."

"The press?"

"Yeah. This is one confusing case. People are getting more and more curious about it. It's small now, but I can tell it's going to pick up. And with your story, it's bound to go global, not because it may or may not be true, but because it's so damn crazy."

"Even I couldn't believe myself," I said.

10 minutes after Yamato left, a nurse came in and asked if I minded the press coming in. I told her to let them in, and more than a dozen people entered. A few were holding cameras and microphones. A few were equipped with only voice recorders. Here and there, I was bombarded with questions. Instead of answering any of them, I told them my entire story without leaving anything out in a half an hour session. Each and every reporter got what they wanted and left satisfied.

* * *

By the end of the first week since being interviewed by inspector Yamato and the press, I found several articles of my story on the internet. The hospital thought it was a load of crap, but by the time the third week came around, the doctors staring noticing Natsuko was getting smaller. At first, they thought it was due to lack of good nutrition, but she remained healthy. Natsuko's blood pressure was normal. Her skin and hair appeared healthy to anyone with good eyes. One of the doctors who knew about my story wanted to see if I was telling the truth. He measured Natsuko and found that she had shrunk by an inch since they admitted her. Seeing it as a miscalculation, he ignored it. Then after a few more weeks, he saw that she'd shrunken by 2 more inches and her face looked a lot younger than he remembered. My story was finally confirmed. By then, I was healthy enough to leave the hospital and go back to school. Because I had missed too many days at school, I didn't have to go back until next quarter. Emiko and I hung around Natsuko's room and played Othello while waiting for her to wake up. Every now and then, one our friends would stop by. So did Emiko's family. We observed news reporters and investigators standing by. Apparently, the investigators were waiting for Natsuko so they could interrogate her about the murder of Kumiko. It's almost as if Emiko and I were in the eye of a storm. One reporter kept a camera on Natsuko waiting for her to wake up. Months passed and the seasons changed. Eventually, it began to snow. By Christmas, Natsuko was edging between a child and a toddler. Every now and then, Emiko would try to wake her up. Emiko's mother, Mrs. Watanabe, looked at her own mother with the same sense of bewilderment I had. Mrs. Watanabe held her mother as she had done when a little girl. As winter became colder, Natsuko became smaller. She still hadn't woken up, and we began to worry that she might not.

If my calculations were correct, Natsuko would have gotten younger by a year each week. Emiko and her mother followed my calculations and sat by Natsuko during what was supposed to be her final week alive. The investigators had left when they heard that the actual killer was found in the Hokkaido countryside. Emiko's family had requested that the press give their family some privacy. Only her family and I stood around her bedside.

On New Year's eve, I observed the lights of the city from the hospital window. People walked through the streets with roman candles, balloons, and various other paraphernalia. The TV in the corner of the room was showing coverage of the New Year's celebration in Shibuya. At nearly midnight, while looking out the window drinking hot tea, I heard the family becoming enthralled.

"She's awake!" said the nurse. Everyone gathered around as she held her as a tiny baby. Connected to a monitor, I could hear that her heart beat had gotten faster. The nurse passed Natsuko to Emiko's mother who held her as if she had just given birth. Each member of the family stared silently with awe and happiness. I, however, remained worried about Natsuko's supposed expiration date. Emiko then held the baby next and looked into its eyes. Looking about as young as a baby could get, she also appeared to hold no despair. From behind the crowd of relatives, I saw her expression as nothing less than satisfaction. She enjoyed her final days as a young woman. Now, she was surrounded by her family. As the clock struck midnight, fireworks from the city started to fill the sky.

"Grandma?" said Emiko. Natsuko's eyes came to a close while the heart monitor changed from a steady beep to a long flat tone. Everyone closed in as they realized what had happened. Emiko tried shaking Natsuko awake, but it was no use. Her time had come. Tears started to swell in Emiko's eyes as she held the baby. Slowly, she knelt on the ground and leaned her head against the wall.

Seeing Emiko crying with a dead baby in her arms gave me a sort of surreal feeling. I imagined that watching a child birth provoked the same intensity of emotion. Emiko, holding the baby tight, was staring into a void. The room was completely silent except for her sobbing and the ticking of a clock; ticking away time; second after second would pile up into hours, days, weeks, years, decades, lifetimes, etcetera.


End file.
